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Lyrics Home :: A :: Afroman :: You Ain't My Friend

Lyrics for You Ain't My Friend by Afroman



(When youíre born in this world, you get these people that you coincidentally grow up with, and you get this illusion of friendship. You know what Iím saying, man? But as you get older, you notice, you notice people trying to take advantage of you. You notice people trying to, like, manipulate you. Then all of a sudden, homeboy, it hits you, and you realize you ainít got no friends, cuz.)
(Thatís real.)
Gotta get on down. Gotta get on down.
Gotta get on down. Gotta get on down.
Gotta get on down. You know I gotta get on down.
Gotta watch my back, (Gotta watch my back) cause I might get jacked. (Go Ďhead on, homeboy.)
Gotta pack a gun. (Why?) Getting beat up ainít no fun. (Well alright.)
Yeah, baby, baby. (Sing it to Ďem homeboy.) Aw, yeah. (Take your time, take your time.)
Aw yeah. (Thatís alright.) Aw yeah.

We donít kick it no more. You ainít my friend.
You need to pay me back my ins, cause you ainít my friend.
Stop drinking my gin. You ainít my friend. You ainít my friend. You ainít my friend.
You be pinching my sack, cause you ainít my friend.
Talking all behind my back, cause you ainít my friend.
Yo, man, itís all good, but you ainít my friend.
Cuz, we from the same Ďhood, but you ainít my friend.
Droppiní dope in my yard. You ainít my friend.
Tryiní to scope out my broad, cause you ainít my friend.
Never visit me in jail. You ainít my friend.
Never post my bail, cause you ainít my friend.
When it comes to friends, I ainít got none. (Got none)
All I got is a double barrel shotgun (shotgun).
I canít stand a useless man that has no plan lookiní at me with an empty hand.
You always talking, but you never listen. When you ride in my car, CDs come up missing,
And thatís strange. Damn, what happened to my loose change?
If I remember correctly, you was flat broke. Now you eatiní on chips and drinkiní on a soda, loc.
Lookiní at me smiling, but yo, I need some gas and my stomach is growliní.
Fools always act like theyíre down with me, but they never wanna go outta town with me.
Flip about four or five pounds with me. Forget a motel, sleep on the ground with me.
But when I get back with my money stacked, all the homeyís start begging and talkiní smack
Tryiní to scheme and plot on the cash I got. Hey, cuz, go Ďhead and shake the spot.

We donít kick it no more, cause you ainít my friend.
You need to pay me back my ins, cause you ainít my friend.
Stop drinking my gin. You ainít my friend. You ainít my friend. You ainít my friend.
You be pinching my sack cause you ainít my friend.
Talking all behind my back cause you ainít my friend.
Hey, man, itís all good, but you ainít my friend.
Cuz, we from the same Ďhood, but you ainít my friend.
Droppiní dope in my yard. You ainít my friend.
Tryiní to scope out my broad, cause you ainít my friend.
Donít visit me in jail. You ainít my friend.
Never post my bail, cause you ainít my friend.
I used to be a gang member, now Iím a gangster.
I donít trust he, she, him, nor her.
Thereís no honor among thieves.
Everybodyís got tricks up their sleeves.
You say you my friend but thatís a bunch of noise.
I stopped kickiní back with my homeboys.
That same mutha-fucka thatís shakiní your hand
will be the first one to rat you to the police man.
Just when you think you found a buddy
You get drunk and your buddy starts actiní nutty. (Say what?)
Now isnít this an excellent adventure? He turned on you like a Doberman pincher.
Crazy as it seems, Afroman got a million dreams.
I canít hang with yíall and drink alcohol. Get into a brawl over nuthiní at all.
I got plans, but you donít believe Ďem, and hanginí Ďround you, Iíll never achieve Ďem.
Bucccooooc!
Aw, yeah. Aw, yeah.

Hey, this is for all the loners out there. Check this out.
I ainít got no family. I ainít got no friends.
Only thing that I have (Whatís that, cuz?) is a big fat bottle of gin.
Make me feel alright. Yeah, make me feel alright. Sooth me Ďtil Iím satisfied.
Yeah, make me feel alright.
I got the gangster blues. Yeah, got the gangster blues.
Stacey Adams shoes, with the gangster blues.
Do the Crip Walk. (Címon, cuz.) Do the Crip Walk.
(Hey, everybody.) Do the Crip Walk. (Hey, cuz.) Do the Crip Walk.
(Stacey Adams.) Do the Crip Walk. Do the Crip Walk.
(Hey, just slide over the floor like this, loc.)
Aw, yeah. Yeah.

Nobody loves me but my mamma, and I think sheís lyiní too.
(Thatís cold, brother.) Aw, yeah. (Thatís cold, brother.)
I could never be your friend, homeboy, (Keep it real.) and I ainít tryiní to.
(Thatís alright.) Aw, yeah. (Hell yeah.)
You know why?
Women canít stand (Canít stand who?) Afroman. (Thatís the homeboy, cuz.)
Cops canít stand (Canít stand who?) Afroman. (Fuck the police.)
My wife canít stand Afroman. (Baby, baby, baby.)
And my kids canít stand (Get on down.) Afroman. (Go Ďhead on, brother. Let it flow, let it flow.)
My mamma canít stand (Lord, have mercy.) Afroman. (Baby, baby, baby.)
My daddy canít stand (Get on down.) Afroman.

Cause Iím a gangster, baby. (Gangster, babe Iím a gangster, baby. (Fuckiní gangster, cuz.)
Iím a hustler, sugar. (Hungry Hustler.) Yeah, Iím a hustler, sugar. (Crip gang, bucoooc!)
Ainít got no job. (Hell, naw.) Ainít got no credit.
But whatever you need (Whatís that, cuz?) baby, Iíll go get it.
Cause Iím a hustler, baby. (Hustler, babe.) Iím a hustler, baby. (Hungry Hustler.)
I made my point, so pass the joint.
(We up outta this, loco.)
Can I get a light? (Here you go, cuz.) Well thatís all right.


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